


Gentlemen Prefer

by branwyn



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: F/M, Herc is a perfect gentemen, References to Domestic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-27
Updated: 2012-04-27
Packaged: 2017-11-04 10:39:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/392931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/branwyn/pseuds/branwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hercules Shipright understands women terribly well. At least he thinks so, until he meets Carolyn Knapp-Shappey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gentlemen Prefer

Hercules Shipwright understands women terribly well. At least he thinks so, until he meets Carolyn Knapp-Shappey.

He isn't really accustomed to pursuing women. Honestly, it's been rather a long time since he had to. Eye contact, a smile, and a smart uniform are usually all he needs to bring women to _him_ , and once a woman's made up her mind to talk to you, half the battle is won. He'd met all four of his ex-wives that way, but then they'd all been much the same type--easily charmed, increasingly younger than him, and slightly over-awed by the glamor of his profession.

In other words, they'd all been the complete antithesis of Carolyn, who is mature, dignified, and virtually immune to charm. Not to mention that she looks upon pilots as annoying functionaries who exist to interfere with the concerns of small business owners. 

It's the oddest thing about Carolyn. She really isn't his type at all. Attractive in her own way, certainly, and of course he respects her, but he's used to dating women who earn him the envious looks of his fellow pilots when they appear on his arm. Carolyn, by contrast, tends to provoke arched eyebrows, and a quiet mutter of, "better you than me, old fellow." She's intelligent, defensive, and argumentative. In a word, she is _work_ , and Herc isn't used to that. In fact, he suspects he's grown rather lazy, when it comes to relationships. Which, he supposes, might explain all the divorces.

He only asked her out to begin with to prove there were no hard feelings when she called him out on his stupid blunder. It takes a frightfully humble and confident man to invite a woman out after she's made him feel like a tit, what? He'd expected to pass a single, mildly entertaining afternoon with Carolyn, and for that to be end of it. He hadn't counted on feeling so triumphant when she admitted to enjoying his company. There was something puzzling and unpredictable about the way she responded to him--as though, at times, there was a third person in the room, sensed only by Carolyn, muttering imprecations and casting doubt on everything he said. It was terribly frustrating, and a little worrying, for reasons he couldn't quite put his finger on.

But he's never bored when he's with her. He hadn't even realized how bored he'd _been_ , until he discovered how much fun it was, being with a woman who kept him so assiduously on his toes. 

In the end, she's a person whose good opinion, while not easily won, is infinitely worth having. He doesn't think he's quite got there yet, but he's prepared to keep trying.

*

It's been two weeks since they last saw each other. He's never entirely certain whether Carolyn wants space when she ignores him like this, or whether she's waiting for him to prove that he's still keen. But's willing to play along, if it's the latter.

"Oh, hi, Herc." It's Arthur, unfortunately, who picks up when he calls. "Um. Mum can't come to the phone right now. She's…resting."

Normally, he'd just leave a message with Arthur asking Carolyn to ring him back, if she cared to. But there's something uncharacteristically guarded in Arthur's tone that makes him ask, "Is she feeling unwell?" 

"Oh, no." Arthur hesitates. "Well. Sort of. She's just a bit. Um." 

Arthur falls quiet, and Herc waits patiently while he wrestles with the English language. "We saw Dad, in St Petersburg," Arthur says finally.

Herc blinks, trying to reconcile this fact with Carolyn's being under the weather. Carolyn has told him very little about her ex-husband, but Gordon Shappey is a known figure in the small world of charter airlines. Herc hasn't heard a great deal to Gordon's credit, but certainly nothing that would put someone like Carolyn off her feed. 

"What on earth was he doing there?" he says.

"Oh, trying to steal Gerti." Arthur sounds perfectly cheerful about this. "Mum'll be okay soon, Herc, it's just. You know. She likes a bit of quiet, after, when she's had to deal with Dad."

"Does she?" Herc wonders, suddenly, if he should be feeling jealous. He doubts Carolyn has ever lost a moment's sleep over him. But then, he's never given her a reason to. "Would you ask her to call me when she's feeling better?"

"Sure, Herc. Bye!" Arthur rings off in a rush, as though relieved the conversation is over.

Herc frowns down at the phone in his hand and makes himself a drink, to mull things over.

*

Carolyn doesn't call him back, not the next day, nor for the two days after. Insult gives way to irritation, before succumbing entirely to concern. On the fourth day, Herc drives out to Fitton Airfield and knocks on the door of the portacabin, where he finds Douglas making tea and Carolyn reading a flight plan at the desk.

"What on earth are you doing here?" she snaps, when he lets himself in. If it were anyone but Carolyn, Herc might infer from her tone that she's upset about something. But she greets him like that half the time anyway.

"I called a few days ago," he says. "Arthur said you weren't feeling quite the thing. I was concerned when I didn't hear from you."

"You should know better than to listen to anything Arthur tells you."

That's fair, certainly, but Herc thinks he knows Arthur well enough by now to tell the difference between one of the boy's patented communication failures and genuine reticence. Arthur had been worried when Herc spoke to him, he's certain of it.

"I, ah, heard you had a spot of bother in St Petersburg." Uninvited, he takes a seat in one of the cramped cabin's uncomfortable plastic chairs. 

Carolyn frowns. Douglas glances up and arches an insinuating eyebrow. This conversation would probably go better if Douglas were elsewhere, but Herc can hardly ask him to leave, and Carolyn doesn't seem likely to.

"Bird strike," says Carolyn, in a clipped voice. 

"Good lord." Herc blinks, startled. "Is everyone alright?"

"Fine. Perfectly fine. A fact which could have been conveyed to you just as easily with a phone call." As if on cue, the phone on the desk rings, and Carolyn snatches it up. "MJN Air. Yes? No, I don't know anything about it. Well honestly, can't you sort it out for yourself? Fine, I'll be there directly."

Without a word of farewell to either Herc or Douglas, Carolyn strides from the office with her nose in the air. Herc watches her go bemusedly, wondering whether he should attempt to accompany her.

But no sooner has the door shut behind her than Douglas speaks to him. "What exactly did Arthur tell you about St Petersburg?" he says.

"Something about his father trying to steal the aeroplane?"

"Ah. Yes, he did do that."

"Really?' Herc supposes he can stop worrying whether Carolyn's bad turn has anything to do with pining for lost love. "An unpleasant fellow, I take it."

"A nasty brute, as a matter of fact." Douglas, who ordinarily doesn't miss a chance to grandstand, sounds strangely clipped. "There are any number of cads, bounders, and reprobates among my vast network of acquaintances, but I believe Gordon Shappey is the jewel of the lot."

"As bad as that?"

"Arthur was plainly terrified of him, and Carolyn was--well."

Herc frowns. "Well?"

"It pains me to say it, but at one point, she was rendered entirely speechless."

Herc and Douglas look at each other, Douglas with a humorless smile pinned to his lips as Herc struggles for words through the shock.

"Good God," he says at last.

"Precisely," says Douglas.

In the end, he hangs around until Carolyn returns. He rather surprises himself by asking, then teasing, and finally daring her to come away from work early and have lunch with him. Fortunately for him, Carolyn has never been able to resist a dare in her life. He sits across from her at the restaurant table and manages to restrain a wince as she cuts into a steak and kidney pie. He also restrains his questions. He'll have to ask her about her marriage to Gordon some day, but for now he's content simply to bully her out of her foul humor.

2.

Shortly afterwards, Herc is seized by the impulse to take Carolyn on a special sort of date--a "pull out all the stops" date, at the end of which it would not be entirely out of keeping with the spirit of things to produce a ring and ask her to make him the happiest of men. Not that he intends to propose tonight. The ink is hardly dry on his last divorce, after all. But he senses that Carolyn's been having a rotten few weeks, and he feels a strange urge to treat her in a small way. It's odd, really, but the pricklier she is, the more he wants to be kind to her. Perhaps it's the contrary side of his nature coming out.

So he takes her to London, where they attend a performance of Iolanthe (a bit low for his tastes, but Gilbert and Sullivan is the closest thing to opera Carolyn has ever confessed to enjoying). They have an excellent dinner afterwards, and stroll for awhile along the Embankment, before Herc drives her home. She is uncharacteristically quiet for almost the entire evening, but on the ride home she draws herself out of her reverie long enough to tell him that she had a pleasant time. She almost sounds as if she means it.

She invites him in for coffee, when they reach her house. Arthur's car is parked outside, so it probably _is_ just coffee she's offering--more's the pity. But Herc's just as pleased to not to be returning to an empty flat just yet, so he follows her inside and sits at her kitchen table while she tinkers with the coffee maker. 

When the coffee has been poured, Carolyn plonks a mug down in front of him and looks directly into his eyes. "I feel I should tell you," she says. "I've no intention of ever marrying again."

Herc blinks. If he'd been twenty years younger, he probably would have blushed. 

"Oh," he says vaguely. "Haven't you?"

"Don't gape at me, Hercules Shipwright. It's been six months since we first began seeing each other, and you're a serial matrimonialist." She flushes slightly. "I must say, I'm flattered. I never thought you'd stick this long. But I urge you to put any thoughts of that kind right out of your head. My last marriage was…well, it was enough to convince me that I never want to make the experiment again." Something of the wind seems to go out of her sails, now that she's concluded this speech. Her shoulders slump slightly. "I am sorry. I do enjoy your company. Most of the time. But on this particular point, I cannot be budged. I hope you understand."

"Of course, Carolyn." Her unease is palpable. He wishes he knew something to say that would reassure her, but his curiosity gets the better of him. "Since you bring it up though, I must confess that I've been wanting to ask."

"I knew it!" Carolyn's tone is a mixture of triumph and wariness.

"No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean--I only wanted to ask about--your last marriage."

"Oh." A hint of relief, and a brand new wariness, take the place of her defensiveness. "What did you want to know, then?"

"Was it…" Herc looks over the rim of his cup, suddenly feeling the need for a shield of some kind. "Was it terribly bad?"

Carolyn blinks. For a long moment, Herc thinks she isn't going to say anything, and he's immediately annoyed with himself for introducing an awkward note into an otherwise perfectly nice evening. But then she unbends enough to take a seat and fold her hands on the table in front of her. 

"My marriage to Gordon was. Yes. Yes, I suppose I would have to say that it was. Rather terrible. Various aspects of it were a disappointment to Gordon, and, well. He doesn't like being disappointed. It made him rather vicious.

"Vicious" is a very precise word. Difficult to put any sort of benign spin on it. Having started down this line of inquiry, he would be a coward not to to pursue it further, but he has an instinct that he'd rather not know. Herc prizes himself on his equanimity, but that isn't really the appropriate response for a situation like this. Will Carolyn think less of him, if he vents his natural feelings, or will she despise him for maintaining a cool facade? There's nothing to do, he supposes, except listen, and be guided by instinct, and hope it won't lead him wrong.

One way or another, it isn't lost on him that this is the very first time in the history of their acquaintance in which Carolyn has made herself the least bit vulnerable to him, and he hopes he isn't the sort of man who would dishonor that sort of confidence.

"Vicious in what way?" he asks, careful to keep his voice gentle, even neutral, trying to communicate that there is no right or wrong answer, only a receptiveness to whatever she is willing to tell him.

"It was me, at first," Carolyn's words come out as a long sigh, an extended note of resignation. "I was youngish, when we married, and I turned out not be quite what he expected. Not so sweet as I seemed at first, perhaps, nor so deferential. And he had a temper, of course. We didn't half row, and in his family rows always ended in blows." Her tone is clipped and matter of fact, as though she's relating ancient history, not connected with her in the slightest. "But then Arthur came along and and of course, Arthur was nothing like what he felt a son of his ought to be. There is _/nothing _wrong with Arthur." Her tone grows abruptly steely, as though she's daring Herc to contradict her. "He's perfectly clever, in his own way, but he's--he's always been a bit of a dreamer, and I must say, that was entirely Gordon's own fault. Children do rather retreat into their heads when there's an air of hostility at home. But time went on, and it became clearer that Gordon's only son was nothing like the son he'd expected to have. Gordon blamed me at first, but honestly, Artur isn't much like me either. Arthur is entirely his own creature, and anyone with sense would value him for it. But Gordon, as I said, can be--vicious. There were a number of incidents, some of them quite nasty. I--shielded Arthur, to the best of my ability, when he was younger, but Arthur is sensitive, despite appearances, and it was clearly taking a toll on him."__

She stares at the table, avoiding Herc's gaze entirely. "So I left, when Arthur was fourteen. I could bear it to a point, when he kept his attention focused on me, but once he started in on Arthur in earnest, well. That was the end. I haven't looked back sense." 

Herc digests this in silence, reading between the lines what Carolyn hasn't quite told him. He feels, unusually, out of his depth. After four marriages, and any another number of casual relationships on the side, he's come to fancy himself something of an expert on women's crises, the sort that can soothed easily enough by a cuddle and a strong arm and murmured reassurance. But the women in his past were all younger than he, just starting out in life, really, not enough experience to their name to feel the wounds that a long and complicated experience of the world can inflict. If he's to be any use to Carolyn at all--and it comes faintly as a surprise, how much he wants to be--a different sort of tactic is required. 

Herc's never seen himself really, as the nurturing partner, in a relationship, but it strikes him yet again that he wants to be worthy of this woman, and while it plainly won't he easy, it's a proper sort of challenge for a mature man, one who's tired of shallow dalliances. If he means to build anything real with Carolyn, he can't ignore this. She deserves better, and Herc would rather think of himself as the sort of man who's up to the job. 

"I hardly know what to say, Carolyn," he murmurs eventually. "I don't imagine it would be any use to say that I'm sorry, although of course I am. This Gordon sounds like the sort of man who could only be improved by a sound thrashing. In fact, if it would be please you, you've only to say the world."

Carolyn snorts, but he fancies there's more amusement than derision in her tone.

"I hope you know," he persists, "how much I value Arthur. Really and truly, in his own right. He is't, perhaps any sort of intellectual giant, but anyone knows him would, as you say, be a fool not to appreciate him. And when I think of the two of you, alone all those years, under the thumb of a nasty little homunculus with a swift temper and heavy hands, it makes me rather…angry. I hope you don't think me a chauvinist, but that sort of thing is extraordinarily distasteful to me. I quite understand that you haven't any wish to saddle yourself with the complications of an another marriage, but I hope I'm not overstepping myself by saying that it would suit me very well if you and I were to carry on as we have done. Only…if it isn't too heavy-handed of me, I would be honored to look after you, in my own way. You've had to deal with more than your fair share of rot over the years, and I don't see any reason why why someone who--someone who cares for you shouldn't take over for a spell. You've earned a rest, if I'm not mistaken. You're such a terribly self-sufficient woman, there seems little enough else I could give you. And I can't help you wanting you give you something."

Herc has been careful, not seek to eye contact with Carolyn while he unburdens himself of this speech, but having reached the end of it, he glances up, and the sight that greets his eyes makes his heart contract, in expectedly painful ways. Carolyn's wearing a soft look, unlike anything he's quite seen before, and rather before he knows what he's doing he's reached across the table and folded her soft, small hand into his eyes, as though in promise of something better to come.

"I never took you for a romantic," she says briskly, her tone at odds with the brightness of his eyes eyes.

Herc smiles, and pats her hand against before he releases it. "Not a romantic at all," he says. "Merely my generation showing. Can't he helped. More coffee?"

"Oh. Yes." Carolyn hands him her mug.

"Neither one of us is going to be able to sleep, for all this caffeine you know," he says.

"No, I suppose not," says Carolyn. "But…perhaps we can think of something else to while away the hours."

It's just as well his back is turned. He doubts the rather foolish grin that comes over his face would add much to his savor faire. "Perhaps we can," he murmurs.

When he deposits the mug at her elbow, he presses his luck far enough to lean down down and claim a kiss. There's a stiffness in her shoulders for a second of two, but it dissolves after a moment, a deliberate decision on her part. Which is no less than it should be. In this, as in most things, he is content to let her take the lead.


End file.
